


Bloody Sky

by CollistaForest



Series: Linked Universe [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Blood, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollistaForest/pseuds/CollistaForest
Summary: Sky had killed so many in his travels. He has been stained with their blood. (Linked Universe)





	Bloody Sky

Sky picked and pinched at the tingling feeling under his skin leaving bright red splotches in their wake. His bracer laid in his lap and his sleeve rolled up past his elbow.

 

Every inch of visible skin was covered completely in scars, bruises and red fading circles. He kept picking at a fairly recent cut, only just scabbed over. The slice bore across the skin, forming a yellow line against the skin to where it peeled away. Slight movements made the scab break, blood bubbling underneath the lines of the wound.

 

There was no one around to hear his soft whimpers as the blood started pooling and trailing over his skin. Sky had went out on his own only an hour ago on a material run and went far. Too far. He'd been lost for the past fifteen minutes, not having the clever idea to bring along a map.

 

So he was lost, alone and scared. And bleeding.

 

He stood from the dirt he was sitting in, brushing his sleeve back down and clapping the bracer back into place. Sky dusted the dirt from his sailcloth, grime didn't suit the white cloth.

 

The Master Sword was quiet. Fi didn't talk to him much since he started this journey with the other Links. The other Master Swords grew silent once the journey started according to the others. According to  _ others,  _ The Master Sword never spoke.

 

He'd have to talk to Fi about that sometime.

 

Something caught onto the end of the sailcloth, which was tied around his neck. Sky choked and spun back.

 

A long slice tore through the cloth. At the end, a Lizalfos’ claw sunk itself into the red decal in the cloth.  The ugly lizard creature towered over the Hero of Courage. Clearly, this was one of Wild's, for the Lizalfos in his land never grew to be this large.

 

As he drew the Master Sword, the claw of the Lizalfos thumped onto the ground with a spray of red. The creature draw back, screeching over the loss of it's clawed hand.

 

Sky jumped back, avoiding stepping on the sailcloth that was now half covered in the lizard creature's blood. The Lizalfos charged with a sense of vengeance. It's head was tilted to the blood covered dirt, showing the larged, curved horn at the top of it's head.

 

Had he moved slower, Sky would have been impaired and dead and bleeding on the ground where no one knew where he was. Dead and alone and bleeding on the ground.

 

Using the momentum of swinging the Master Sword, he cut into the back of the furious lizard. Black smoke and red blood poured from the Lizalfos, staining Sky's boots and the beautiful green grass around him.

 

Red splattered, the same color of his Loftwing.

 

Crimson.

 

He steadied, shifting his weight until he stood straight. Somehow, for some odd reason, he couldn't feel sympathy for killing the beast. It was evil, he knew. If he just let it run free, it would have murdered someone else, maybe even himself. He knew how he could kill the monsters… though he never understood how he could rest easy taking it's life.

 

It had a life.

 

It was alive, breathing. It ate. All creatures he killed in the past ate something. He wondered if they knew the Hero of Courage would be their downfall? He wondered if any creature he had ever fought knew they were going to get a taste of the Master Sword as it dismantled their bodies and left nothing but blood and smoke.

 

Sky stared at the blood on the Master Sword. He killed thousands of monsters. Hundreds at once during his final fight with Ghirahim. Senseless beings with a craving for death, that's what he always took the monsters for. He's painted his blade with the blood of thousands.

 

He never took a second thought about the shortness of their lives as he wiped the blade clean of blood all those times.

 

Sky stared at the blood on the Master Sword.

 

For some reason, he felt sick. Sick of seeing blood covering his hands, sick of being seen as a hero. Sick like he was about to throw up.

 

And he did.

 

Right over some lovely flowers.

 

A ringing sound came from the Master Sword, calling Fi’s presence to attention. She hovered above the ground and rubbed circles on Sky's back, moving over the split sailcloth.

 

“Master Link?”

 

“I…” The words died, trailing to the ground with a string of saliva to a pool of bile and gross.

 

“I don't want to be the hero anymore.”

 

Fi understood. She understood everything, it was her role to understand and evaluate everything he did. She gave him the statistics and he'd play hero.

 

He hated playing hero. He never really wanted to.

 

“Master Link, I'd advise you take some time off for your own health. I'm afraid that any more heroing for the next 36 hours will only hinder your mental state.” 

 

Sky tried to smile as he walked off onto a path he thinks he remembers. Fi picked up the Master Sword and floated right behind Sky, cleaning the blood off of the blade.

 

“Thanks.”

 

As he walked along the path, Sky subconsciously clawed at the bracer on his wrist. It felt heavy and itchy and unnecessary. He peeled it off, pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, and started to scratch at the scars.

 

The barely scabbed over wound pulsed as if begging for attention. Sky's feet thumped across the dirt paths as he focused on picking the cut. Blood started to pool under the surface of the scabs again. With a slice of fingernails, the blood met the air and skin and dirt.

 

The blood flowed over his arm, dripping and gushing onto anything it could reach.

 

Blood. Blood pools. Blood splatters and thinly veiled scars. Lizalfos blood on his blade, Heroes blood on his hands. Fledge jumping to the surface without calling his Loftwing. Instructor Owlan gouged out by night creatures more than ready to kill anyone who steps outside during nights in Skyloft. Headmaster Gaepora hanging from his ciking over the loss of his only child.

 

Dead.

 

They all died before Sky was called to this ridiculous quest. He could feel their spirits under his skin as he picked, threatening vengeance if he forgot. Forgot their spirits, forgot their story.

 

Fi held her hands over the bleeding scab, blue glowing over the surface of his skin. The Master Sword was sheathed once again. The spirit of the Master Sword lead him back to where he needed to be, back with the other heroes.

 

She disappeared back into the sword before anyone looked over to him. They must not be ready to see her yet.

 

Legend was the first to notice him. Notice the bags under his freckles, notice the blood staining everything.

 

Time and Legend both came to him at once as he felt his shaky legs finally give out on him. Time helped him stand while Legend took to questioning and covering the wound.

 

Sky didn't answer anything, he just watched as Legend wrapped white bandaging around the wound. Sky let the other pull his sleeve down and reattach the braver around his wrist.

 

Deciding he didn't want to answer any of the mumbling questions the others gave, Sky laid on the dirty ground and passed out.

 

Now, it took awhile for him to wake up. Once Sky opened his eyes again, the sun was setting again. He propped himself onto his elbow and almost immediately fell back into the dirt. He took a moment to realize he probably shouldn't be putting too much pressure on his arm at the moment.

 

He clutched his blanket tighter. Then, he felt the fabric and remembered he never bought a blanket. The sailcloth gifted to him by his Zelda was stitched right back up with a white thread. The red blood was missing from the cloth and Sky was greatful of that.

 

A steaming bowl of  _ something good _ garnered Sky's attention. Hopefully Wild was the one who made the dish. If it was anyone else, he might just happen to spill it out… on accident… maybe.


End file.
